


A Helping Hand

by StrawberrySmog



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Improbable Alternian bureaucratic procedures, Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Public Claiming, Sexual Slavery, Tentabulges (Homestuck), excessive alien sex fluids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberrySmog/pseuds/StrawberrySmog
Summary: You didn’t expect helmsman training to devote so much time to being naked and alone in an empty room, but it makes a certain amount of sense.Feferi uses her political power and Alternia's bizarre laws to prevent her matesprit from being taken away for a lifetime of torture. Her matesprit is not entirely sure how to feel about this.
Relationships: Sollux Captor/Feferi Peixes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mirradin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirradin/gifts).



Your name is Sollux Captor, and for as long as you can remember you’ve had a feeling of impending doom. In a way, it’s been comforting— sure, things have a tendency to turn out shitty, especially with you around, but they’re rarely as bad as your messed-up instincts tell you. Even when shit goes fully off the metaphorical handle, you’ve at least got the satisfaction of knowing you were right. But at the moment, it’s hard to find any satisfaction in your situation even if it is exactly as fucked as you were expecting.

The night started off decent enough: you woke up, fiddled around with some code you’d been working on, and trolled a few of your friends, but the trouble ball started rolling when you noticed a stupidly bright light flooding through your windows. You barely had time to send Karkat a quick, “brb, 2ome nookwhiifer ii2 2hiiniing a biig fuckoff light iintwo my hive,” before a bunch of drones burst through your wall, slapped a pair of goggles onto your face, and absconded with you in tow. Your suspicions about what was happening were confirmed when you were unceremoniously thrown in a hold filled with a bunch of other pissed-off kids with two-tone eyes.

Helmsman recruitment, AKA getting kidnapped so you can spend the rest of your life serving your glorious empire in the form of a living battery.

You’ve always known what happens to the best psionics. How could you not? You’re the best, after all, and you’ve never met a morbid possibility you didn’t want to painstakingly obsess over. Yet somehow you still couldn’t quite process it when it happened, even as the drones loaded you into their ship flew you off to who-knows-where.

It seems like against your better judgment you actually bought into all of Feferi’s crap about how you didn’t have to worry because none of your friends were going to turn you in and she’d be on the throne before you had to worry about the future anyways.

You suppose you’re not exactly worried right now– the emotion you’re feeling could probably be better described as “pants-shittingly terrified,” except you’re not wearing pants. Or anything else, for that matter. After what must’ve been several nights of travel, your ship docked and the drones took you aside, stripped you, and tossed you into the tiny room you’ve been sitting in for who knows how long.

You didn’t expect helmsman training to devote so much time to being naked and alone in an empty room, but it makes a certain amount of sense considering that pretty much describes your future minus the psychic tentacles lashing you to the wall. Aside from your sorry ass, the only things in the room are some kind of tall, metal box in the corner and a mirrored wall that gave you a great view of what an idiot you looked like trying to pry the box open earlier. There isn’t even anything resembling a load gaper or a recuperacoon, which is either a sign you’re not meant to be here for much longer, or one that things are about to get even more uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable, you really need to readjust your sitting position, because however long you’ve been here is long enough for your ass to go numb. You wriggle around trying to get comfortable before you give up and accept that you’re sitting naked on a metal floor.

You can’t even levitate yourself for some relief– the first thing you tried to do when you were taken was use your psionics, but the goggles you’re wearing prevented that, sending the eyeblasts right back at you. Every subsequent attempt was equally pointless, leaving you stunned and half-blind. You still have a bit of a headache from all that. The only thing you can do at this point is sit and wait for the worst.

Five scenarios into your list of ways you’re going to die horribly the mirrored wall starts flickering. You scramble to your feet, as if it actually matters what position you’re in at this point, and try to prepare yourself for whatever’s coming.

“Sollux!”

You were not prepared for this. The mirror has flickered out of existence, giving you a view of another room. A room currently occupied by a frantic Feferi Peixes.

“I’m so sorry for not getting here earlier, I came as soon as I could but I didn’t even know where you were or what happened to you, you just stopped replying to everyone on trollian and then it was nights and you still weren’t responding and then I found out what happened and it was just– oh my glub, I’m so glad you’re okay!” She’s pressed up close against the glass, palms outstretched like if she tries hard enough she’ll be able to push right through it and touch you. For all you know, she might be. Her presence is inexplicable as it is. She seems to sense your confusion– not hard, considering you’re standing there staring like a contestant on Alternia’s Next Slack-Jawed Idiot, and steps back.

“This must all be pretty awful and confusing,” she says, awkwardly twirling a strand of hair. She must be fresh from her hive, because it’s still wet and tangled. 

“Yeah,” you say. You should probably say something more, but you’re currently feeling pretty awful and confused. Feferi’s face twists with pity, and something in your gut does too.

“Yeah. Well, um, don’t worry because I’m busting you out of here!” she says with strained enthusiasm.

“Yeah?” Truly, you have a way with words.

“Totally! It’s going to be reeeeel simple. All I’ve got to do is claim you, and then we’re freer than a salmon in the sea!” Even her fish puns are forced. Something’s off.

“Claim me? What, did you tell them I was a piece of luggage you forgot at the underground transportation hub?”

“No… no,” she pauses, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Not like that. It’s… well it’s not… there’s this weird old rule and… look, I’m the heiress and you’re my matesprit and since we’re quadrantmates I can arrange for you to stay if I take you as my property for when I ascend the throne so you don’t have to die!” the information comes out in a rush, like a dam bursting if you want to get a little aquatically themed.

“What do you mean, take?” you say. You do not want to get a little aquatically themed. You want to find a way to make sense of this information that doesn’t involve your girlfriend making you her sex slave.

“It wouldn’t be a real pailing! Just symbolic,” she says, confirming that no, really, Feferi’s brilliant idea to save your life is to make you her bitch. You’d be colossally upset if you had any better ideas, so as it is you’re just regularly upset.

“This can’t be real,” you groan. “Is this seriously the plan you’re going with?”

“Well it’s literally the only plan I have, so yes. Unless you want to try escaping from an imperial ship without any powers or clothes?” her logic is sound, which only makes you angrier.

“I’d at least have clothes if you didn’t decide to let them throw me in here so you could ‘take me’ as your sex toy!” it’s only a guess, but the way she backs up confirms that this whole situation with being stripped naked and left to rot was part of her brilliant plan too. She looks contrite for a moment, before she balls her fists up and shouts back at you.

“You want clothes? Fine, take your stupid clothes!” she presses a button and the metal box slides open, revealing itself to be a closet. “You can put them on while I go sign even more papers so I can be tied to your ungrateful ass forever!” she screams before storming out of the room. The screen shows you the magnitude of your fuckup for a few more seconds before it flickers out of existence, a mirror once more.

* * *

You’re still sitting on the floor, feeling lost. You’re at least not completely naked anymore, but the outfit you’re wearing is hardly providing you any kind of comfort. After a long period of being spite-nude you broke down and chose the least revealing combination, which still shows enough of your body to leave you freezing your ass off in the metal room.You’re considering stripping again out of protest when the door opens, revealing a rustblood dressed in a uniform that’s halfway between military and butler.

They stare at you for a moment, confirming how ridiculous you must look with your googles and crop top, before telling you to follow them. They lead you down a metal hall as devoid of life as your former cell until it abruptly culminates in an archway leading to some cavernous space. You stop. The rustblood gives you another weird look, something that must be pity or disgust, before turning their head and motioning for you to go on without them.

As you step into the room, you realize you’re in an arena of sorts. There’s a raised area in the middle, and the whole thing is circular and ringed with layers of seats– seats filled with more highbloods than you’ve ever been around in your entire life. Most of them are seadwellers, but there’s one or two purplebloods who seem way too excited by your arrival, and even a few bluebloods scattered around. It feels like half the aristocracy is here to watch you get fucked. Wonderful.

Before you can start feeling too blessed, Feferi bursts through another archway followed by a team of tealbloods. You can’t hear what they’re saying from your position, but she’s obviously pissed and based upon the amount of eye-rolling she does, nothing the tealbloods say to her is calming her down. She signs something, and then the tealbloods are walking over to you, dragging you into the center of the arena. Feferi’s there too, and you both stare at each other before one of the tealbloods gives an exasperated snort and pushes you into each other.

You stumble and instinctively brace yourself against Feferi. She does the same and you end up awkwardly half-embracing, afraid to let go or get any closer. It would be awkward enough without you looking like an extra from an exploitation film about wanton aliens.

Feferi breaks the tension, leaning closer so she can whisper into your ear. You can feel the coolness of her hand moving down your arm, and hear the sound of your audience straining to get closer so they can hear whatever she’s about to say to you.

“So,” she begins, “I sort of wanted to figure this out beforehand.”

“This was your idea,” you hiss, “you figure it out.” She looks lost for a moment, staring at your face like she’s never seen it before. One of the highbloods boos.

“I missed Dancing with the Former Heads of Colonized Governments for this? Get a move on!” Feferi blushes. She guides you almost too gently into a sitting position. Her eyes flicker down. Slowly, she reaches for your skimpy bottoms. As you already discovered, they’re ridiculously easy to undo, and it’s only a matter of seconds before there’s nothing between her hand and your crotch. You almost gasp, the difference in temperature even more pronounced here. It’s not unpleasant, exactly, but it’s certainly bracing.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, but you still feel a little surprised when she begins rubbing your entrance. You think she’s trying to coax your bulge out, but without any warning she slips a finger inside you. You inhale sharply, and her eyes snap back to your face.

“Oh my glub, Sollux! I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” The highbloods have a good laugh at that. You try to ignore them.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, and surprisingly, you really do mean it. Your anger from earlier has cooled, and now you’re just tired. Tired and too exposed in front of all these assholes, but it’s not her fault. She can’t help that you got taken in the first place, and she can’t help that her only recourse to prevent you from powering a ship for the rest of your life is to either storm a military base or follow some insane law. “It’s fine,” you repeat, “I know you’re just… trying to help.” She gives you a teary smile, which is only slightly marred by the peanut gallery making a series of over-the-top awwing noises. You smile back.

“I guess I should keep going then, huh?” she wiggles her finger, reminding you that she’s still inside you.

“Let’s get this over with.” It’s not the most enthusiastic beginning for a pailing session, but it’s confirmation enough for her and she gets back to work defiling you.

As she continues to explore the interior of your nook, the heat in your groin increases. You can feel your bulge moving involuntarily, and so can Feferi because she begins to stroke it, thrusting her finger further toward its base. The combination of hot and cold is almost too much to handle.

You’re almost fully open now, yellowish fluid dripping from between your thighs. Feferi removes her finger with a sudden pull that relieves the building pressure of your unfurling bulge but leaves you feeling slightly empty. As she sits back, you can see the same yellow fluid dripping down her hand as well. 

“Do you mind if I…” she points to her skirt, trailing off.

“Oh no, go ahead.” She begins removing her own lower layers, which are much slower to take off than yours since she’s wearing real clothes. Beneath her skirt, you can see that her underwear is already slightly wet, magenta pooling to match your gold. Despite the circumstances, it gives you a rush. She finishes peeling off her underwear and sits back down on your lap, her legs straddling your own.

Your nooks are touching now. Without any exchange of words, you begin grinding on each other. You’re practically erect already, and the sensitive tip of your bulge explodes with sensation when it presses against her entrance. Even now her bulge is squirming against your own, desperately pressing outwards as her nook begins to open.

Her bulge is cooler than yours, like the rest of her body, and when it finally pokes its way out to meet your own the sensation is at once invigorating and refreshing. The two members twine, slick with their own fluids. You reach out, maybe gasp something, but you can’t tell if it’s words or just noise. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but the feeling of Feferi beneath your hands, on your hips, around your bulge.

The heat and pressure in your body builds and builds and then it really is like a dam breaking, because you didn’t even know your body could contain so much liquid. It rushes out, all over the two of you and the floor. No wonder your species relies on buckets for mating.

While you’re pondering the finer points of the reproductive cycle Feferi makes a noise and a flood of pink joins the rapidly growing yellow lake on the floor. You look over. She’s panting, and while she was wet before she’s practically glistening now, covered in a thin layer of sweat. She gulps for air.

It's over. You're hers, in whatever weird legal sense that entails, but for some reason you feel strangely okay with that.


End file.
